


Stranger In A Not So Strange Land

by marshmallowww



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, MGiT, Modern Girl in Thedas, More Tags will Come Later, Slow Burn, So many bad tropes, so many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowww/pseuds/marshmallowww
Summary: Death was supposed to be final right? Or least a transition to an afterlife that didn't involve waking up in the middle of the Anderfels sometime during the fifth blight. Too late to somehow help the Hero of Fereldan, and too early to be of any use to a non-existant Inquisition, University student and Dragon Age fan Brigitte does the only thing she can think of and makes her way to the charming and unique city of Kirkwall. Perhaps a normal death would have been better.
Relationships: Anders (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Fenris/Male Hawke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 117





	1. Not In Kansas Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first expedition into any fiction writing ever. This idea would not just leave my head and I couldn't find many good MGiT for Dragon Age II so I decided to write my own. Any feedback would be appreciated and I apologize for any mistakes in advance. All Dragon Age content is owned by Bioware and EA.

_Fricking pointe shoe ruining my feet_ she thought, rolling her calves on the foam roller. _Of all the dance types my parents decided to put me in, it had to be ballet_. She sighed and moved on to rolling her hips out, the sounds of her fellow classmates doing the same and making small talk acting as background noise to her post-class ritual.  
Once done, she began to pack up and looked at her watch. _Fuck,_ she swore, _my lab report is due at midnight_. She hurriedly tucked away her roller and slipped on her sneakers as she rushed out of the studio she frequented. Like most other college students, she had left the report until the last minute, because there’s always a chance it could have written itself. Right?

  
“Hey Brigitte!” a voice called out. “You forgot your tights in the locker room.” Looking back, Brigitte could see that the voice belonged to her friend Olivia, a fellow geology student at her University and former roommate. “Here are your tights. They got stepped on a little so you might want to wash them. Why are you in such a rush anyways?”

  
Brigitte shoved the tights into her bag. “I have to finish the petrology lab report.”

  
Olivia snorted. “You mean the one that we’ve had a week to do?”

  
Brigitte hummed her agreement and quickened her pace, only half-listening to what her friend was saying. Instead, she was thinking of her lab report. _Physical properties that show a rock’s origin. Size of mineral fragments, crystalline structure, color, - Wait? Can I use color? That’s just based on the mineral composition of the rock. What did we even do in that lab?_ She was pulled out of her mental rambling by Olivia lightly tugging on her bag. They were standing by Olivia’s car, a beat-up old Honda.“Where are you going? I’ll give you a ride.”

  
Shrugging her shoulders, Brigitte opened the back door and swung her bag in, ignoring the perpetual mess Olivia kept in her backseat.”Sure, why not, it’s pretty cold anyways.”

  
Olivia giggled and started the car. Shirley, the affectionately named Honda, sputtered to life. Brigitte smiled to herself as she remembered the argument She and Olivia had gotten into over car names, an extremely pressing topic at the time. Olivia had become flustered when Brigitte had laughed at the name Shirley and in defense had called Brigitte a nerd for naming her car Iron Bull. Brigitte had conceded on that one, naming her car after a video game character had been a bit of a nerd move, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, her silver jeep had had one headlight cracked for months and it was boxy and rugged. Olivia hadn’t been too impressed with her argument, not that Brigitte had expected her to be.

  
Olivia handed Brigitte the aux cord and the two drove along, listening to whatever came up next in the queue of her hodgepodge playlist. Even though it was only four in the evening, it was already dark out, an unfortunate side effect of it being December so far North. Resting her head on the car window, Brigitte let the exhaustion of a long dance class take over.

  
The small respite didn’t last long, and next came the sound of screeching tires and the sound of screaming and another voice screaming that Brigitte vaguely recognized as her own. The last things she remembered were the headlights of the approaching car and the sickening crunch as the metal of the car crushed and suffocated her, trapping her as the world went black.

  
_____________________________________________________________________________

  
Regaining consciousness was slightly painful, a mad throbbing causing tightness in the back of her skull. Brigitte opened her eyes gingerly and was surprised to see that it was very obviously daytime, and not just that, it was warm. This was wrong, something was very wrong. Buffalo, New York was not warm in December, even with the effects of global warming. Sitting up, she rubbed the spot on the back of her head where the pain was emanating from and took the time to look around. _Is this a fucking desert?_ The landscape was arid and sandy, and there was no vegetation in sight. _This is it. I’ve ended up in hell and I’m doomed to die of thirst._ Brigitte could feel the sand that was working its way into her sneakers, which were relatively unscathed.

She smiled a bit. _I hate sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere. Alright. I’ve had my fun, it’s time to meet my maker._

  
Looking herself over, she could find no signs of injury except for the pounding in the back of her skull. There were no signs of Olivia and the car, in fact, the area where she had woken up seemed relatively undisturbed. Frowning, Brigitte surveyed the landscape for any signs of life. _This doesn’t seem quite like hell yet. Purgatory, maybe? I should probably start walking._

  
Quickly feeling the effects of the sun, Brigitte took off her sweatshirt and tied it around her head and neck. _If this is hell, the last thing I need is a sunburn on my neck._ _Now which direction to go._ She put her hands on her hips. _Does it really matter if this is some kind of afterlife? Might as well have some fun._ Chuckling to herself a bit she spun herself in a circle a few times and then started marching forward. Brigitte instinctively reached for her phone in her pocket, and surprisingly found it there, still intact in all of its modern glory. She furrowed her brow, she hadn’t left her phone in her pocket, in fact, she was fairly certain she had left it on of Olivia’s cupholders. W _hat do I need a phone here for anyways? This is becoming incredibly weird._ She sighed. As if this wasn’t weird already she chided herself.

  
Marching forward was growing tiresome and anxiety was curling itself into a heavy ball in her stomach. Nobody was out in this desert with her. _She was all alone and she was going to die and starve and wither away into nothing and…_ Brigitte took a deep breath. _Can’t be going crazy this early into this, can I?_

  
Minutes of walking turned into hours and hours turned into three days. The lack of water was becoming an issue fast. Her skin was becoming hot to the touch and it wasn’t snapping back the way it was supposed to when hydrated. She had already tried her phone and with no surprise at all, she discovered that there was no cell service or wifi. Desperately scanning the horizon once again, Brigitte caught sight of three figures moving in the distance. She grimaced. _Great, I’m hallucinating._ She continued marching forward though. If she didn’t she would die. That much she was certain of.

  
Slowly the figures became larger and Brigitte nearly laughed when she could make them out clearly. They were wearing Grey Warden armor. Fucking Grey Warden armor, from the Dragon Age series. Here, in her own little pocket of Hell. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming need for water, Brigitte wouldn’t have even approached them, but they were truly her last hope. Mustering up strength, she tried to speed up her advance towards them she collapsed and began crawling slowly. _Lovely time to start dying of dehydration_. She thought to herself. She tried to scream at them for help, but the only sounds that left her throat were shrill cries, raspy and broken.

  
She could hear the group talking and then running towards her. She couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they seemed concerned. Brigitte smiled as her vision became blurry. _Maybe I won’t die as quickly as I thought_. And then for the second time, her world went dark.


	2. A Whole New World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter in the Anderfels! I promise we'll get to Kirkwall soon. :) All feedback is appreciated.

Brigitte woke up to the feeling of cool water being poured down her throat and the murmuring of two different voices by her side. Opening her eyes she could see that these were the wardens who she had been crying out to before she lost consciousness, or at least they were also wardens. She opened her mouth to ask where she was but one of the wardens, a female with facial scars spoke in her unfamiliar language and pressed the waterskin back to Brigitte’s lips.

The Warden who Brigitte has already dubbed Nurse turned to one of her companions and spoke. “Was machen wir mit ihr? Sie hat keine Waffen oder Vorräte. Dummes Mädchen wird hier draußen sterben.” Brigitte bunched her face in confusion. Were they speaking German? She started going through her mental catalogue of the nations in Thedas and their real life counterparts. _Fereldan is England, Orlais is France, Nevarra is Austria? Or Prussia? But it wouldn’t be desert. Think, think, think. Is this the Anderfels?._

Brigitte started to list things in her head. _Grey Wardens, German, Desert. Yep, this is the Anderfels._ She watched the Grey Wardens speak and took in the details of where she was. The tent she was in was simple fabric and it was a good size. There didn’t seem to be anybody outside of the tent. This was a patrol perhaps? The group certainly wasn’t in any well-populated area.

Brigitte cleared her throat, ridding herself of the unnatural feeling of dryness combined with thick phlegm. Perhaps English would be common tongue and she wouldn’t have to learn a whole new language. That would make sense. _As if any of this makes sense_. Working up the courage, she turned to the Wardens. “Do you know where I am?,” she asked.

The wardens stopped their conversations and looked at her quizzically. The warden next to Nurse, a tall male with black hair, green eyes, and twin daggers strapped to his back spoke up. “Was hat sie gerade gesagt?”. (What did she say?)

Nurse looked the third warden, a pretty blonde who was holding a cup that was most likely tea. _In this weather?_. “Wissen Sie, welche Sprache das ist? (Do you know what language that is?)”

The blonde shook her head, her face still puzzled. “Ich habe noch nie so eine Zunge gehört. Vielleicht kann ich mit ihr gemeinsam sprechen?” (I have never heard such a tongue before. Perhaps we can speak to her in common?”

Nurse nodded her head and turned back towards Brigitte “An dtuigeann tú dom anois?” (Do you understand me now?). 

The language sounded different and Brigitte groaned internally. _So I understand neither Anders or Common and I’m not sure which of those is which. Or if those are even the two languages they used. Great. I’m going to die._

Her vacant expression must have been a clue because the wardens glanced at each other.

Nurse shrugged and pointed to herself. “Samalia. Verstehen?” (Samalia. Understand?) Brigitte nodded and Nurse, now Samalia, continued, pointing first to the male Warden, who Brigitte now knew was named Nikolaus, and the blonde named Matilde. Smiling as nicely as she could she pointed to herself. “Brigitte.” Nikolaus laughed and turned to Samalia “Sie hat einen anderen Namen und kennt die Sprache nicht.” (She has an Anders name and doesn’t know the language.” 

Samalia lightly slapped Nikolaus. “Sei nicht unhöflich.” (Don’t be rude.)

Matilde cracked a small smile and looked at the girl on the cot. “Armes Mädchen, was sollen wir mit ihr machen?” (Poor girl, what should we do with her?) 

Nikolaus stood up. “Bring sie zurück ins Dorf, denke ich.” (Bring her back to the village, I suppose.)

The three wardens stood up and began to start packing up the various supplies littered around the tent. Brigitte stood up from the cot and watched as the wardens worked, feeling useless. _It’s not like you can do anything at the moment, relax._

Once done, Samalia and the entourage began walking in the desert, chattering as they went. _It certainly seems like they know where we’re going._ Within the next hour, vegetation began to appear, and soon a small village appeared, causing Brigitte to groan with relief and the wardens to laugh.

The village was comprised of wooden shacks, which seemed like a fire hazard considering how dry it was, but hey, it was shelter. There was a well in the center of the village, and chickens roamed about, pecking at the dry pieces of grass and brush that were on the ground. The group came to a stop in front of one of the nicer looking shacks, and when Nikolaus opened the door and called out, the smell of baking bread hit Brigitte who smiled. _Food sounds nice right about now._

While they waited for Nikolaus to return, the girls played a riveting game of point and translate. Brigitte’s vocabulary had now widened enough for her to know the words for water, house, chicken, and bastard. _Of all the wardens I could have run into, at least I found the nice ones._

A few minutes later, Nikolaus returned with two older looking humans, and introduced them as Alwin and Ingrid. They had kind faces and shook her hand and spoke to Brigitte quickly, all the while she just smiled and nodded. Nikolaus looked apologetically at the flustered outsider. “Sie kann dich nicht verstehen.” (She can’t understand you.) The older woman, Ingrid, just waved Nikolaus off and brought Brigitte into the house. Samalia and Matilde called out what sounded like goodbyes and Nikolaus waved as they left, following Ingrid. 

The shack was filled with jars filled with various plants, liquids, and powders. A pot was bubbling on the stove and Alwin stirred it as Ingrid led Brigitte to an old couch. The woman’s eyes twinkled and she clapped her hands together. “Willkommen in Ihrem neuen Zuhause!”

_______________________________________________________________

And so Brigitte’s first year of life in Thedas began. The reality that there was no immediate was to move on or go home became apparent after a few days in Thedas, and in response Brigitte did something she was very good at. Just not thinking about it. There were languages to be learned and skills to acquire. And anyways, there was nothing she could do at the moment to go home anyways. The Anderfels are about the most ass-backwards place she could have landed in, save Par Vollen. The fifth blight was also currently happening, meaning that there was at least ten years before the vents of inquisition. 

Thus began Brigitte’s planning. It was too late to meet the Hero of Ferelden, but Kirkwall? She could make it to Kirkwall. She kept track of what she would need in a small ledger giver to her by Alwin when he began her apothecary training. The list was simple: Learn Anders, learn common, be able to defend oneself, finish apprenticeship, leave. Seemed simple enough.

Learning Anders was easy. Turns out if you live in a small village that’s ethnically Anders with little outside trade you are surrounded by people who speak Anders, and having nobody else who spoke English ensured that Brigitte learned quickly. Common took longer to learn, but Alwin was fluent in it due to being a potions master and being heavily involved in providing for the Grey Wardens.

Life in the Anderfels took some getting used to. It was no Fereldan or Orlais. The Grey Wardens held all military power and even acted as police in outposts and small villages such as the one she was in. The three wardens who found her, now her closest friends, were on a regular patrol around the perimeter of the village when they found her. The only other source of real power, for the King was a puppet for the Grey Wardens, was the Chantry. Alwin and Ingrid were especially religious, taking a whole day off during the week to pray and read the Chant of Light. Brigitte had once asked about Andraste’s Mabari in jest, but the resulting glares had told her all she needed to know.

Then, life settled into a routine. Wake up, help her adoptive mother Ingrid, with the small garden and the chickens, spend the rest of the morning working as an apothecary with her adoptive father Alwin, eat, train with Matilde, Nikolaus, and Samalia, earn money waitressing in the local tavern, go home, wash, rinse, repeat. Brigitte tried to make the most of her time because once she had enough money she would find passage to kirkwall one way or another.

______________________________________________________

Brigitte groaned as the foot on her back pushed her deeper into the sand. “Yield.” a gruff voice said into her ear. She sputtered as she inhaled some of the sand her face was pressed in. “Fine dickhead, I yield.”

Nikolaus grinned and offered his hand to her, pulling her up. Brigitte rubbed her arm and shook sand out of her hair. “You know, it’d be much easier for me to beat you if you stayed a little bit away from me.”

Nikolaus laughed and sheathed his twin daggers. “I’m a rogue, it’s what we do. It’s not my fault your greatsword can't keep up.” Brigitte shushed Nikolaus. “Swordy is my best friend and she knows it.” 

The learning to defend herself part had gone surprisingly smoothly. Samalia couldn’t be of much help due to her being a mage and Brigitte not being one. Only so much that could be done there. At first, people had thought she would be a rogue, her flexibility and graceful movements making her a pretty good candidate, but the greatsword had just felt right, and Matilde had been all too excited to help her learn.

Nikolaus’ expression turned sadder. “I’m going to miss you, you know. We’re all going to miss you.” Brigitte swallowed thickly and looked away. “I know, but I need to go out on my own.” She looked back at Nikolaus and smiled a bit. “This place isn’t very conducive for a livelihood if you’re not a grey warden.” 

He nodded. “I know, but, just write when you can. I’m just happy to have gotten in one last spar with you. Who knew my little sister would be such a fighter.”

Brigitte grinned and pulled Nikolaus into a hug. “I’ll be sure to write don’t worry about that.” She pulled out of the hug and began walking to the horse that Alwin had provided for her to use, a dappled grey gelding Brigitte named Sylvain. Nikolaus boosted her onto the horse and handed her a bag she knew would be filled with home-cooked sweets from Ingrid. “I guess it’s time for me to go, huh.” Brigitte could see the beginning of tears forming in Nikolaus’ eyes.

He nodded. “You were one of the few good things that was out here. Don’t get yourself killed.”

Brigitte laughed and pulled on the reins, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about.” She looked towards the road that led out of the village and her smile faded. _Here’s to hoping I don’t die again. That would be incredibly inconvenient._ She waved one last time at Nikolaus and started off. _This is going to be fun._


	3. And So the Fun Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, school had been incredibly busy lately. Updates will become more regular in March. 
> 
> Brigitte finally gets to experience Kirkwall and all of the loveliness that comes along with it. How exciting.
> 
> I love all kinds of feedback! It helps me improve my writing so don't be shy!

One of the first things that Brigitte learned upon docking in Kirkwall was that the docks were just as disgusting as implied. The smell of fish, sea, and poverty-stricken living combined to create a foul odor that so far was only second to the smell of the cargo ship’s hold.

Most of the people on the docks appeared to be workers, mostly speaking common except for a ritzier looking bunch speaking French, no, Orlesian. Brigitte stepped off the ship and skimmed the area. If there weren’t any Qunari yet it meant that she would be able to insert herself into Kirkwall’s story before the Hawke’s met Varric.

Her plan was simple in theory. Get into Kirkwall, find Anders, fix it, like one of those fanfictions she used to read. Brigitte grimaced as she remembered how refugees were being blocked from entering the city. Right, simple.

The summer sunlight beat down on her as she made her way through the docks, trying to find an entrance to somewhere that wasn’t another dead alley. Even though she had spent a year “toughing” it out in a village in the Anderfels, nothing could have prepared her for the feeling of accidentally placing one of her hands on a stone wall of a warehouse building and having it come away sticky.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sounds of Kirkwall either. The Anderfels had been quiet, the most noise coming from the training sessions of the local Grey Warden patrols. The docks were another story. There was the constant chatter from the Ferelden refugees, often accompanied by the sounds of crying, from both children and adults. The industrial sections of Lowtown could also be heard from where she stood. This combined with the overall dreariness of the city’s infrastructure, or at least that which could be seen from the Docks, did not inspire confidence. _This is probably what it was like to live in 1800’s New York. Great._

Brigitte walked through the crowds on the docks. Most people gave her a wider berth when they saw the greatsword strapped to her back. Besides the dagger on her thigh and the clothes on her back, the greatsword was the only thing she had managed to keep with her. She had underestimated how much the passage from the middle-of-nowhere to Kirkwall would cost. There was no way she would be able to buy herself into the city, but if she remembered correctly, there should be an entrance to Darktown somewhere in the docks. _How convenient._

As she meandered her way through the docks the alleys became darker, the smell of sewage became stronger, and eventually, Brigitte found herself underground with damp and cool stone surrounding her. She subconsciously pulled her cloak tighter, protecting herself from the predatory looks she was getting. She had kept herself up well in the Anderfels, and her clothes were made from the same standard-issue materials that much of the Grey Warden’s stuff was made of. She was keenly aware of how much of a target she was.

Brigitte quickened her steps, only searching for the lantern that was supposed to mark the clinic’s location. _It was a lantern, right?_ Many of the small details of the game were beginning to escape her, but she was reasonably sure she had remembered that correctly.

Her pondering came to an end when two large hands on her shoulders threw her onto the dusty ground. _Fuck. I should have been paying attention_. Brigitte looked up and saw three thugs leering down at her. They didn’t seem to be coterie, their weapons and armor were crude, and they seemed to be incredibly thin. She felt a wave of pity as she took in their forms. They were probably refugees who couldn’t buy their way into the city proper.

The main thug took out what appeared to be a kitchen knife and pointed it at Brigitte. “Well, well, what is a pretty thing like you doing out here in Darktown?”

Brigitte gagged. The wave of pity was over.

The man next to the main thug elbowed him lightly and at Brigitte. “Are you sure boss? That sword looks pretty big.”

The main thug let out a small shout of anger and whipped around to his lackey. “Of course it’s big, it’s a greatsword you idiot.” He turned back to Brigitte. “Besides, I don’t even think she can use it, look at how small she is.” The group laughed. How original.

While the “bandits” were enjoying themselves and their monologue, Brigitte had stood up and taken out her sword. She sighed. She really didn’t want to kill these refugees on account of the fact that they were likely starving and just trying to eat but she knew the reality of the situation. If she didn’t kill them they would continue to terrorize others. She drew her greatsword and prepared for a fight. She could ponder the morals of the situation later if she so desired.

The main thug stopped his laughing as he watched Brigitte draw her longsword and his expression morphed into one of indignation. “What do you think you’re doing? Boys! Get her!”

The other thugs drew their knives and daggers and ran at her haphazardly. There was no moral quandary now, Brigitte decided as she brought her sword down on one of the approaching thugs. It was a clean slice, going through the chest. Brigitte winced and turned around as the main thug and the other lackey approached her.

Bringing her sword down again in a swinging motion, she caught the leg of the other lackey, leaving herself open to the leader’s knife. Pain ran through her leg as the knife caught underneath her leather thigh pad and Brigitte gave out a small shout, cleaving through the lackey and the leader in one motion.

The bodies dropped to the ground and Brigitte ground her teeth. _Not even three hours in Kirkwall and I’ve already become a vigilante. Great_. She looked around and was unsurprised to see that nobody was even looking at her or the bodies, the entire thirty-second skirmish had gone almost completely unnoticed by the people of Darktown. She shrugged and began to loot the bodies. Hey, it wasn’t like they needed whatever they had on them anymore.

Rifling through the pockets, she found about two silvers worth and a flimsy silver chain. Not much but enough to buy food for a few days maybe. She didn’t quite know how the cost of living in Kirkwall compared to the tiny desert outpost yet, but she was willing to bet that food still wasn’t cheap.

She could feel the cloth of her leggings becoming wet with sticky blood and she began hobbling down the same path she was on before, looking for the lantern that indicated where the clinic was.

Turns out she didn’t have to hobble for long, after about ten minutes and two more right turns, she found herself staring a structure with a glowing lantern. The only thing stopping Brigitte from jumping for joy was her leg wound and the fact that the smell of death and illness was even more concentrated here, and that was saying something.

Brigitte braced herself, suddenly becoming nervous. _What if he’s not nice?_ Brigitte almost laughed at her childish thought, the dude blows up a church. And isn’t there a saying, never meet your heroes? Does that apply to favorite video game characters? A sharp pain in her thigh urged her to keep moving, and she sighed. It was too late to turn back now.

She limped to the door and opened it slowly, her heart beating wildly against the inside of her chest. Perhaps she was going into shock? She looked down at her leg one more time and saw what was a small blood patch now covering most of her leg. Her world suddenly spun and her stomach lurched. Ok, maybe the wound was worse than she thought at first. She inched forward into the clinic, hoping that maybe she would be able to speak to him before she passed out. Or would passing out and not talking be preferable?

Tunnel vision was starting to set in and she just moved forward. Brigitte was vaguely aware of someone pointing to her and someone she vaguely recognized as maybe being Anders rushing over to her. To be fair, everything was quite blurry at this point, but she was about 90% sure that she saw feathers. She tried to speak but someone shushed her and picked her up. When had she fallen? The tunnel vision started to overtake her and darkness started to set in. _I really have to stop doing this_ she thought, and then she was out.

  
\------------------------------------------------------------

  
Anders POV  
If one thing never ended in Kirkwall it was sickness. Despite the fact that it was well into summer, various types of illnesses were rampant among the refugees, especially the children. Despite this, his clinic was relatively empty today, except for the small child in front of him with croup. He cleared out the child’s lungs and then turned him back over to his parents who were excessively grateful for what he had done.

The child giggled and pointed behind Anders. “Mommy that person fell down!” Fuck.

Anders quickly turned around and saw a person with a large greatsword strapped to their back in a heap on the ground. He was a bit surprised that he hadn’t heard them enter, but he had been healing the child at the time.

He rushed over to the groaning heap and began laying them out flat on the ground. Anders noticed some things very quickly. One. This person was a female. Two. There were quite short. Three. They were wearing what appeared to warden colors without any insignia. A small flash of fear went through him. Surely if the Wardens had located him there would be more to follow.

Minding the greatsword, Anders lifted up the unconscious girl and placed her on the nearest table. The bleeding was coming from a deep wound in one of her thighs. He glanced up at the sound of her murmuring as he began to heal the wound. Andraste’s exposed ass cheeks what was he doing. If this was a Grey Warden she would either try to bring him back, which wasn’t happening, or kill him, which also wasn’t happening.

_Maybe the Warden-Commander sent her?_ Anders quickly vanquished the thought from his mind. Aeducan would have sent him a letter if she had needed him, and she knew his feelings about the wardens anyways. Besides, he hadn’t heard from her in ages, she was somewhere out west looking for a cure to the taint if he remembered correctly.

Anders looked down at the wound that was now closed. It was still angry and red and it would definitely scar, but now he just needed to wait. He had some questions to ask.

  
\--------------------------------------------------------

  
Brigitte’s POV  
Brigitte groaned as she began to wake from her dreamless sleep. Her leg hurt, but as far as she could tell it had stopped bleeding. She could wiggle her toes and fingers and all in all, everything seemed to be in one piece.

She blearily opened her eyes and sat up, aware of the quiet in the clinic. Her throat was raspy. Had she really been out that long? She smiled a bit to herself. _At least this time I’m not in the middle of the desert. That sucked_.

Anders was next to her when he realized that she had woken up. He handed her a mug of something that smelled a lot like elfroot if elfroot had been burnt and sprinkled with cinnamon. A healing potion then, probably for blood loss. Bottoms up. Brigitte grimaced and then downed the whole mug. The quality of the potion was not great, she noted. _He needs a better supplier._

She handed the mug back to him and turned to get her first good look at him. _Holy Shit. He’s hot._ Unbelievable. The man lived in a sewer, was running himself haggard providing free medical to refugees, and had a parasitic spirit messing with his moral compass. He had no right to look so handsome.

Brigitte was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of Anders clearing his throat. “So, now that you’re healed I don’t suppose you could tell me why the Wardens are looking for me?”

She stared at him, the message slowly processing. “What.”

Anders looked a little more irritated now. “You. You’re a warden. Why are you here in Kirkwall?”

Oh! It finally clicked. Anders thought she was a warden. Brigitte nearly broke out in laughter. Her? A warden? No way. And besides, couldn't he just sense that she wasn’t a warden?  
Brigitte chuckled. “Can’t you tell I’m not a warden with your whole sensing the blight thing?”

Anders huffed closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them back up the tips of his ears were slightly pink. “I guess you’re not a warden after all. I apologize. Your clothes had me suspicious.”

She looked down at her clothing. Oh shit, he was right. She was clothed in Warden Blue and silverite, all she was missing was the little griffon symbol. Huh, maybe that was why people on the docks were stepping out of her way.

She looked back at Anders. “No harm done, my leg is better after all.” She twisted it around, surprised that the skin didn’t even feel tight where the wound had been. A thought came into her head. Maybe she should ask questions so that she didn’t let out the fact that she knew everything about him and his past. It probably would be awkward if she let something slip like _Hey, I know that you kept your mother’s embroidered pillow_ or _Ser-Pounce-a-Lot was pretty cute huh, I was there when you got him._ “So what are you so worried about, with the Wardens and all.”

Anders eyed her warily. Ok, maybe that question had been a little much a little fast, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know the answer. “Nothing bad, if that's what you’re wondering.”

Brigitte looked around the small clinic, taking in its haphazard appearance. “You’re a healer, I would hope you didn’t do anything bad.” Anders chuckled a bit in response, and the two lapsed into silence.

_Fuck, I haven’t thought this far ahead._ So far, Brigitte had accomplished her first major goal. Obtain passage to Kirkwall, meet Anders. Step 2? No clue. Step 3. Profit. She was currently on step 2, not the best place to be, but it was workable.

Anders cleared his throat again. “So, if you want to leave you can, your leg should be fully healed.”

_Oh my god, this is going to be so weird._ Brigitte sat up a little straighter and prepared herself for the extremely awkward turn this conversation was going to take. _As if it wasn’t awkward enough already._ “ActuallyIwaswonderingifIcouldstay.”

Anders just looked at her, eyes slightly wider. “What.”

Fuck. Brigitte started wringing her hands. If she fucked this up it would be even more awkward later when she had no place to live and no way of making a living. She started again, but slower this time. “Actually, I was wondering if I could stay and help because I’m about 90% sure that I have skills that could be of use to you.”

Anders laughed. “You’re joking right?”

Brigitte stood up from the table in an attempt to make herself taller? Maybe? She just needed to be moving around. “Listen. I have no place to go, no way to make a living. I even took this chain off of the body of the dude who gave me that wound.” She took out the chain and slapped it on the table. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but your potions kind of suck and I can actually be an apothecary here at the clinic because I was raised by an apothecary and his wife and I was apprenticed to him and please let me help because I really don’t have anywhere else to go.” Brigitte finished and drew in deep breaths. Who knew desperately appealing to sewer mages took so much out of a person.

Anders appeared to be contemplating the offer, which was a good sign. “You are right that it would be useful to have an apothecary in the clinic. But how do I know you won’t turn me into the templars. You’re not Fereldan going by your accent, and you’re certainly not a mage.”

“Honestly if I was going to turn you into the templars, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Anders nodded. “You do know that you’re going to get almost no coin from this.”

Brigitte smiled in relief. He was coming around to the idea, at least “Yeah, I kind of figured. But I can harvest ingredients from the Wounded Coast, I wouldn’t need to buy them.”

Anders sighed and ran his hand over his face. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I’ll let you work with me at the clinic. You can stay here too if you really don’t have anywhere else.”

Brigitte let a large sigh of relief. She wanted to hug the man, but she figured that probably wasn’t a good idea. Justice didn’t seem like quite the cuddly type. Besides, it wasn’t like she had his trust yet, he had just agreed to let her work at the clinic, but honestly, that was better than what she had expected.

She smiled and put the chain back in her pocket. “So do you make your own potions or did you get them from somebody.”

Anders’s ears became tinged with pink once again. “I make them myself when I have the time.”

Oops. She felt a bit bad now for calling them trash, but oh well, they were. “Alright, can you show me your station.”

Anders led her over to a partially sectioned off part of the clinic that acted as his apothecary station and oh boy. No wonder the potions were sub-par. Besides the obvious fact that they were most likely rushed, the station was a mess. _The clinic is in a sewer,_ Brigitte reminded herself. She muttered under her breath. “I can work with this, I can work with this.” There was no way this station was in any way, shape, or form workable as is. _Of all the worlds that my afterlife could have resembled, it had to be this one, didn’t it? Great._ Now all that remained was for Hawke to show up.

Brigitte glanced between her messy apothecary setup and the still distrustful Anders. _Hawke please show up soon._


	4. Tranquility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being gone for so long! Senior year has been kicking my ass, but my school being shut down due to the Corona-virus has allowed me to write much more. I hope to get some more done in the next few days. We finally get tp meet Hawke in this chapter! Enjoy, even if it was rushed.

As it turns out, Hawke did not show up soon. Two months had passed and the most exciting thing that had happened was when Brigitte had killed a bandit during an expedition for elfroot on the Wounded Coast. If she was being truthful, the past couple of months hadn’t been so bad. In fact, after about three weeks Anders finally began to joke around with her. He had even praised her healing potions which made her chest swell with pride. Just a little bit.

The work itself wasn’t too grueling. Healing refugees wasn’t the worst thing she could be doing, and she herself wasn’t too involved in the nasty parts of healing. Anders had even had her learn practical healing so that she could heal minor cases on her own. At least nobody could say she was useless.

The whole situation was almost completely unlike what Brigitte had been expecting. This Anders was much more like the Anders of Awakening than he was the Anders of Act 3, and while his joviality was a bit disconcerting at first it was probably preferable to his brooding about mage rights. He had brought up the topic, however, especially when he confided in Brigitte about his friend, Karl. That had choked up Brigitte, knowing what was to become of him.

Brigitte looked down at the potions she was concocting, another batch of the elfroot and cinnamon healing potion that Anders had given her when she first arrived. Turns out that elfroot potion cured almost anything. It was probably the only potion she made with any regularity and she had seen it used for everything from broken bones to what she would call pneumonia, but the refugees called wet lung. Basically the same thing.

The sound of the clinic’s door opening made Brigitte lift up her head from her work and what she saw made her heart stop. There was Hawke, and Varric, and Aveline, and Carter. All of them. In the clinic. Right now. And the Hawke was her Hawke. The last Hawke she ever made was standing in the front room of the clinic.

She took in a deep breath, this was good. She knew how this Hawke acted and what his decisions would be.  _ Go through the checklist _ . Right, ok. This Hawke was male, default appearance because she loved the blood swipe, a mage, purple, and he romanced Fenris. And he didn’t kill Anders. Brigitte opened her eyes and smiled, of all of the Hawkes she could have ended up with, this probably was the best option. And if this universe was like the storyline she had created in her games, she knew who the Hero of Fereldan was and who the Inquisitor was going to be. 

Brigitte stepped out of her corner, watching Hawke and companions approach Anders, who had just finished healing a little boy.  _ Here it comes _ .

Anders’s eyes flashed blue and he whipped around. “I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?”. Brigitte tensed up. Hearing Justice in Anders’s voice was unnerving. She watched intently. This was something she needed to be sure went right.

Hawke just smirked. “Rumor has it that you’re a Grey Warden.”

Varric stepped up. “We’re interested in getting into the Deep Roads, do you know a way?”.

Although she knew they were no threat, part of her job had morphed into becoming protection for the clinic. Brigitte grabbed her greatsword and made her way over towards Anders, trying to give away as little as she knew as possible. Anders made eye contact with her and nodded before turning back to the group in front of him.

“Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?” Brigitte almost broke character and laughed. It was so much like what he had said to her when she had first arrived in the clinic. “I’m not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat.” His look became a little sadder. “Poor Ser-Pounce-a-Lot. He hated the Deep Roads.

Hawke and Varric shared a quizzical look. “You had a cat named Ser-Pounce-a-lot. In the Deep Roads?”

Anders nodded. “He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too. The blighted Wardens said that he made me too soft. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine.”

Hawke tilted his head. “What are you doing out here on your own? I thought that joining the Wardens was a lifetime thing.”

Anders scowled. “That’s partly true, the “hopelessly tainted by Darkspawn” and “plagued by nightmares about archdemons” parts don’t go away. But it turns out if you hide well enough, you don’t need to wear the uniform or go to the parties.”

Hawke nodded and gave Brigitte a sly smile. “And who is this, Lirene didn’t say anything about a pretty female bodyguard.” Brigitte’s face flushed with what she was sure was deep pink. She forgot that she had made her Hawke a shameless flirt.

Anders was the one who answered. “This is Brigitte, resident apothecary.”

Varric whistled. “She’s more than just an apothecary with a sword that’s bigger than her.”

Anders rubbed the back of his neck. “She might provide a little bit of protection against the less fine things in Darktown. She can be trusted though.” _Oh._ _Because Hawke’s a mage._

Hawke kept his sly smile and turned back to Anders. “Good. So back to what I was here for. I’m part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information you have could save people’s lives.”

“I will die a happy man if I never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can’t imagine what I’ve come through to get here. I’m not interested…” Anders trailed off into thought. “Although, a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I’ll help you?”

Hawke chuckled. “Let’s be more specific. I don’t do anything involving children or animals.”

Anders continued on seriously. “I have Warden maps of the depths in this area. But there’s a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched gallows. The Templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps.”

Anders paced around, clearly becoming more agitated. “I sent Karl a message to meet me in the chantry tonight. Maker willing, he’ll be there, alone. But if there are Templars with him, I swear, I’ll free him from them, no matter the cost.”

Hawke nodded. “I’m always willing to help a fellow mage.”

Anders seemed surprised but smiled. “Good. I’m glad we could help each other.”

Hawke nodded and turned to Carver. “We should go, Mother is probably wondering where we are.” 

Carver just rolled his eyes, obviously disagreeing with Hawke’s course of action. 

The group left and Brigitte and Anders were left in the clinic alone. Anders turned to Brigitte, looking much more tired than he did thirty seconds ago. Anders spoke. “I hate to ask this of you, but would you be willing to come to the chantry. ‘I’m not entirely sure that the people looking for the maps will show up.”

Brigitte smiled. “Of course I will, Anders, I know how much this means to you.”

Anders nodded and sat down on a bench in the clinic. “I’m nervous. If he’s stopped sending letters there’s a chance that they could have made him tranquil. What do I do then? When you’re tranquil you’re cut off from the fade, from everything that makes a mage a mage. It’s a fate worse than death.”

Brigitte bit her lip. How could she comfort him without getting his hopes up? She knew how this ended. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, Anders.”

Anders looked up at Brigitte, his lines showing on his forehead. “I suppose you’re right. I just can’t stop worrying about him, who knows what the templars have done to him.”

Brigitte leaned on her sword. “ I can’t say that I have any knowledge of what being in a circle is like, but I’m sorry about your friend regardless.”

Anders snorted. “You’re lucky. Imagine all of your freedoms taken away just because you knew how to swing a sword. It’s madness. Magic was given by the maker and yet mages are locked up everywhere in the chantry’s name.” He turned to face her. “For what it’s worth, not many people would be willing to help me like you are, especially since you’re not a mage.”

Brigitte shrugged in a way that was hopefully nonchalant. “I support mage rights.”

Anders hummed in agreement and then stood up. “We might as well start getting ready now. I’d bring some extra potions, just in case.”

Brigitte nodded and moved over to her apothecary station, her hands slightly shaky in anticipation. Her first in-game mission and her first time going up against templars. How fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brigitte pushed out a breath and leaned back against the less grimy stone wall of the Kirkwall Chantry. Anders had led her through winding sewer tunnels until they had come out somewhere in Kirkwall. When she had asked Anders how he had found so many short=cuts he had just laughed and told her it was part of the job.

That had been hours ago. Now Brigitte was waiting for Hawke and crew to show up, Karl having entered the chantry a few minutes ago. She tightened her grip on her greatsword and looked over at Anders who had been pacing incessantly for the past hour at least. One thing that had surprised Brigitte was Anders actually disguised himself for the mission. It wasn’t like the game where he was staff out, robes on in Hightown during the day. Thankfully, real Anders seemed to have a bit more common sense than that.

Brigitte was pulled out of her musings by the approaching sounds of Hawke bantering with Carver, Varric, and Aveline. She frowned. Out of everybody that would be good for this mission Hawke had to bring the policewoman and the wannabe templar brother. 

Anders stopped his pacing and looked at Hawke. “I saw Karl go in a few minutes ago. No templars so far. Are you ready?”

Hawke smiled brightly at Anders. “Of course I am, now let's get this done fast.”

“All right. I’ll handle the talking. You watch for templars.” Anders nodded at Brigitte and she nodded back, swallowing a bit.

The group pushed through the chantry doors and the acrid smoke of incense filled Brigitte’s nostrils. 

Anders padded in the front. “When we find Karl just let me talk to him.” Brigitte was expecting a witty retort but Hawke must have felt the gravity of the situation because he just nodded, falling into line behind Anders as the group went up the right staircase, stopping at the top.

The sight of the grey-haired tranquil made Brigitte’s heart clench. She hadn’t come across a tranquil during her year in the Anderfels, and the thought of Karl’s fate saddened her deeply. She looked over at Anders’ face which was still hopeful and her heart clenched again.

Karl began to speak. “Anders. I know you too well. I knew you would never give up.”

Anders’ expression fell into one of horror. “What’s wrong? Why are you talking like-”

Karl turned around. “I was too rebellious. Like you. The templars knew I had to be made an example of. How else will mages ever master themselves? You’ll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself.”

The sound of men marching in plate armor reached the group, who quickly drew their weapons. Anders’ eyes flared blue and the deep undertone of justice filled his voice. “You will never take another mage as you took him!” Fuck.

Brigitte steeled her anxiety and rushed at a templar hunter. Ok, Brigitte, breathe. Remember what your friends taught you. Rogues go first if you don’t have rogues. Ok, now slash, step back, dance. Her breath caught in her throat as the hunters daggers came close to her body. Although Brigitte still believed this was some kind of afterlife, she had learned very quickly that she could still get injured.

With a great heave, Brigitte swung her greatsword into the side of the hunter, catching him underneath his plate. The man went down. Forcing bile back down her throat, she turned around to see Aveline plunge her sword through the chest of a templar lieutenant. 

Was it really over already? They must have just sent enough templars to overwhelm Anders, not fight three warriors, two mages, and a rogue. Her head was ringing from the adrenaline of being in the fight and she wanted nothing more than to curl up, but she knew that the worst was still yet to come.

Anders was still in an offensive position and Brigitte walked over and put her hand on his shoulder, half-expecting him to turn on her. The blue faded from his eyes and he put down his staff. The sound of Karl’s voice broke the eerie quiet that came over the group.

“I-Anders, what did you do? It’s like you brought a piece of the fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like.”

Hawke walked up and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I thought the tranquil were cut off from the fade forever?”

Karl turned to Hawke and continued. “When you’re tranquil you never think on your life before. But it is like the fade itself is inside Anders, burning like a sun.” Brigitte winced as Karl’s voice became more frantic. “Please! Kill me before I forget again. I don’t know how you brought it back but it’s fading.”

Anders had tears building in his eyes. “Karl No-”

Hawke grimaced. “Perhaps he is right. Being tranquil is a fate that is worse than death.”

Anders swallowed and took out the small knife he kept in his pouch for herbs. Karl cried out. “Now! It’s fading!” His eyes glazed over. “Why do you look at me like that.”

Anders tensed and then pushed forward, the knife plunging into Karl. Brigitte barely caught the apology Anders murmured as he did it but the emotion was written all over his face. He breathed out and turned around to address Hawke. “We should leave before more templars come.”

The walk back to Anders’ clinic was sullen, and Brigitte was slightly annoyed by the fact that Hawke and the crew were still there. A deep suffocating sadness was like a cloud around the blonde mage and Brigitte wanted nothing more than for him to have time to grieve. This annoyance became even more deep-seated when Hawke began talking the moment they stepped into the clinic.

“That wasn’t normal magic you just did was it?”

Anders turned. “I-This is hard to explain. When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day.”

“What does that have to do with your eyes glowing?”

“To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I offered to help him. We were going to work together, bring justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent away to the circle. But I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me. He changed.”

Hawke’s expression softened. “I’m sorry. This is obviously difficult for you.”

Carver scoffed. “For him? We’ll be hunted for sure now.”

Brigitte rolled her eyes in annoyance. Carver had about a 33% chance of ending up as a templar anyways.

Anders continued. “I thought I was helping my friend. He would have died I guess. If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered. But my anger, when I see templars now, things that have always outraged me but I could do nothing about, he comes out. And he is no longer justice but vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy.”

“Is there any way I could help?”

Anders shook his head. “You’re the first one I’ve ever told this. Thank you for not running away. My maps are yours. As am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have a need for me I will be here.”

Hawke smiled and turned to face Brigitte. “Are you included in the angsty mage care package? You did pretty well with that greatsword.”

She felt her face burn. “I would also go down into the Deep Roads if you wished. I can also make potions for your trip.”

Hawke laughed. “That sounds useful.” He turned to the door of the clinic. “Thanks for the maps, we’ll be back.”

Brigitte and Anders watched Hawke, Varric, Carver, and Aveline leave the clinic. Brigitte spoke up first. “What a strange man.”

Anders was quiet for a short while and then spoke up. “I understand if you want to leave.”

Brigitte looked at him incredulously. “Why would I want to leave?”

Anders looked a bit lost. “I just told you I’m an abomination. If the templars ever found out you were living with me they’d say you were hiding me. You’d be ruined.”

Brigitte snorted. “Anders, that doesn’t matter to me. I stay here as your apothecary because I believe in your cause and to help protect you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Anders saw down on a chair and leaned forward onto his elbows. “ I just killed one of the people I loved the most because of what the templars have done to him. I consider you a friend, and I would hate to have something happen to you.”

Brigitte frowned.“I promise you I can handle myself. Besides, who else in Kirkwall can make potions like me.” Maybe now was time to lighten the mood.

Anders cracked a small smile. “I’m sure I could find somebody.”

“You wound me.”

Anders chuckled and stood up. “Thank you for your help today. I’m sorry you had to see me so vulnerable.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m here to help” She watched as he smiled sadly and then walked to his bedroom at the back of the clinic. A large wave of fatigue crashed over Brigitte as well and she walked over to her cot. How the hell was she supposed to survive the next seven years? The night had exhausted her physically and emotionally.

She turned on her side and looked at her potions station. Oh, how her life had changed since she had woken up in the Anderfels. She let out a deep breath, maybe it could get better from here.  _ Doubtful. _


	5. Sundermount

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not this work has not been abandoned lol. Been dealing with some stuff the past few months but I'm back and better than ever.

It had been five days since the night at the chantry and for the time being, things seemed quiet. Anders hadn’t avoided her after revealing Justice like she thought he would. Instead, their relationship had turned into something more like a friendship. Anders was more open around her, joking more often and talking more about mage rights.

Anders also afforded more power to Brigitte in terms of running the clinic. Brigitte considered this a win because although she hadn’t been a biology student, she definitely knew that things could be more sanitary which would in turn make the clinic more effective. A win-win. Magic healing was only so effective when tools weren’t being sterilized and the people are hungry.

Speaking of hungry, Brigitte turned to look at herself in the dirty mirror she had found that was now in her room. Back when she had first wandered into the Anderfels, people sometimes assumed she was a run-away noble or such because of her appearance. Nobody was mistaking her for a noble now. She had lost quite a bit of weight ever since moving in with Anders, due to the pure fact that there wasn’t a lot of food. If it didn’t go to the patients it went to the orphans around and if it didn’t go to the orphans it went to helping the mage underground or so she had learned. She wasn’t overly skinny, but she would guess she had lost close to thirty pounds overall, leaving her frame lean and muscular.

She ran her fingers through her hair noting with disappointment that her curl pattern was all but ruined. Her mom’s family was completely Irish and her dad had been from Norway and this genetic combination left her with intensely curly auburn hair. Now it was dull and tangled because there was simply no way to manage it living in Darktown the way she did. Lotions, shampoos, and soaps were generally considered luxury items, and her current living situation was not conducive to having such things.

Brigitte was pulled from her musings by the sound of the clinic door opening. Moving around the partition that hid her cot, Brigitte smiled when she saw who it was. There standing in the clinic was Hawke, Varric, and Carver. Hawke was talking to Anders and when he saw Brigitte he waved her over. Brigitte followed his instructions and walked over to the group.

Hawke was leaning on his staff nonchalantly while Carver looked annoyed and Varric had a dopey grin on his face. So far, promising.

Brigitte walked up the group and greeted Hawke. “So what are you boys here for.”

Varric spoke up. “Believe it or not Blue, we’re going to hike a mountain.”

Brigitte wrinkled her nose. “Blue? That’s what you’ve got?”

“Well it’s a work in progress but look at you.”

Brigitte looked down at her outfit, which was still the under armor she had procured in the Anderfels, all in warden blue and bluish metal. “All right, you got me.”

Varric shot her a grin and if it was a thing here she was sure he would have pulled finger guns too.

Hawke cleared his throat. “So back to the whole hiking the mountain thing we’re doing. I was wondering if you’d like to come along. Aveline is busy and we could use another sword. And I can pay. In alcohol.”

A night at the Hanged Man with Hawke buying her alcohol? There wasn’t much Brigitte wouldn’t do for that to happen. She smirked. “Anything for alcohol.”

Hawke chuckled. “Good, because we’re leaving now. Maybe bring some snacks. I don’t know how long we’ll be but hey it’s a mountain.”

Brigitte turned to face Anders. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

Anders laughed. “I make no promises.”

She turned and left the group, entering her small improvised room. Armor, check, greatsword, check, potions, check. She looked at the small bowl of apples she had “borrowed” from an orchard last time she was searching for elfroot. She shrugged and poured the apples into her bag. Hawke said to bring snacks and damnit she would. She pulled the bag over her shoulder and finished buckling up her armor and went to go rejoin Hawke.

Hawke looked her up and down. “You ready?”

Brigitte nodded and Hawke clapped his hands together. “Good, let’s go.”

*

As a former geology student, Brigitte was used to taking long hikes and experiencing nature, but this walk to Sundermount was something else entirely. It had taken an hour just to get from Darktown to the base of the mountain and the worst part was that Carver was also aware of this fact and was deciding to say it out loud. Repeatedly.

Carver moaned for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Do we really need to go do this? I could be at home right now.” Brigitte tried to repress a snort at how childish Carver sounded but it came out in a sort of strangled noise. Hawke noticed and flashed her a sly grin.

“Well, little brother, seeing as a Dragon Lady came from the sky and told us to do this, yes, we really are going to do this.”

Carver scoffed and kicked at a rock causing Brigitte to laugh. Oh yes, the sibling dynamic was just as prevalent in real life as it was in the game.

Hawke looked around the group and spoke up. “So… Brigitte. Why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

Brigitte cocked her eyebrow. “Now?”

“Well we have nothing better to do and if we’re going to work together I’d like to know more about you.”

She hummed. “Alright. My full name is Brigitte Anne Kieffer and I’m from the Anderfels. I only learned common about a year ago and came to Kirkwall. That’s about it.”

Varric whistled. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

Brigitte shrugged. “I was sick of being an apothecary apprentice in the middle of nowhere, and Kirkwall was somewhere.”

Carver butted in. “Where did you learn to fight with a greatsword if you’re just an apothecary’s apprentice?”

“I had friends who were Grey Wardens and they trained me, I guess I wanted to be useful in a fight. I wanted to be ranged but I’m awful with a bow and I’m not a mage, so the next best thing was a greatsword.”

Varric spoke next. “So how did you end up in the ass-end of Kirkwall making potions for an apostate healer.”

“Simple. I needed a job and could provide help. Anders took me in and gave me a place to stay.” 

Hawke nodded. “I can appreciate that, when my brother and I first got into Kirkwall we were forced to work for smugglers for a year.”

Carver grunted. “It was awful.”

Hawke nodded. “Athenril is...something special.”

“So why did you only learn common last year, you’re what? 20?” Varric said

Honestly fuck these questions. “I didn’t have a reason to learn before now and for your information, I am 21,” Brigitte said. Varric hummed. 

Hawke smiled. “Aw, you’re a baby, how cute.”

Brigitte scrunched her nose. “You can’t be that much older than me.”

“For your information, I am 24, born right on First Day, Carver is the youngest.”

Carver scoffed. “Bethany was only older than me by seven minutes.”

The mention of Bethany made Hawke’s smile a little sadder. “I know, but I still need to rub it in.”

The conversation died off quickly after that. Even though it had been over a year since the Hawke family had made it to Kirkwall, she was sure the wounds of Bethany’s death were still open. The rest of the hike to the Dalish encampment went slowly, and by the time Brigitte could see the aravels in the distance it was almost noon. 

What appeared to be two Dalish hunters stood in the path to the camp, their daggers gleaning in the sunlight. As the group approached the male elf stepped forward, crossing his arms. “There’s nothing here for any humans, go away.”

Hawke chuckled awkwardly. “I wasn’t expecting tea and cakes but still.”

The female elf narrowed her eyes and looked at the group, then placed her hand on the male’s arm. “Wait. This is the one the keeper spoke of.”

“A shemlen? I thought he’d be an elf.” Carver scoffed and Hawke elbowed him in the side.

The female addressed the group once again. “Enter the camp, Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you.”

The male snarled slightly, “Cause trouble, and you’ll meet our blades stranger.”

As the group was let through Brigitte began to drink in the sights of the camp. The aravels were truly wonderful things, and the engineering that must have gone into them was astounding. And hallas? They were beautiful, their coats and horns shining in the sunlight. 

The camp seemed relatively normal for the most part, hunters were around, cleaning animal carcasses and children were playing. It was sad to know what would become of them.

Marethari was standing by the fire, looking pensive as she watched Hawke approach. “Marethari? I was told to bring you this amulet.”

Marethari spoke. “Andaran atish’an travelers. Indeed, I am Keeper Marethari. Let me look at you.” She circled Hawke, making him shift uncomfortably before she returned to her place in front of the fire. “There is a light in your heart, human. Don’t let it go out. You will need it. Tell me how this burden fell to you, child.”

Hawke answered. “A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn, then asked me to bring you this amulet. No big deal.”

Surprisingly, this brought a smile to Marethari’s face. “You are blessed by luck, then. I will pray that Mythal watches over your path. The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then return the amulet to me. Do this, and your debt will be repaid.”

Hawke nodded. “Are you going to teach me this rite for the departed?”

Marethari shook her head. “No, I will send my first with you, she will see to it the ritual is done.” Marethari paused. “And when it is complete, I must ask that you take her with you when you go.”

“That seems a little odd.”

“It is her wish and I must grant it. You’ll find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain. Dareth Shiral.” Marethari then turned her back on Hawke, signaling that conversation was over. Hawke looked around the group, an eyebrow quirked.

“Well, I guess we have an amulet to give back, let's get to it.”

Brigitte was practically shivering with anticipation. Meeting Merrill? This was going to be amazing, if slightly awkward and terrifying. And there was the fact that the mountain was completely covered in awakened corpses which Brigitte had never fought before. A small price to pay to meet your favorite characters she supposed.

Merrill was easy to spot as Brigitte walked up the mountain, her vivid green outfit and large staff contrasted against the grey rock of her background. She was deeply concentrating on something magical she was doing but looked up as the group approached, the magic fizzling out in her hands. “Oh! I didn’t hear. You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth ara.” Her face grew a bit more worried. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t ask your name. Unless… It’s not rude to ask a human their name, is it? I’m Merrill. Which you probably already knew. I’m rambling, sorry.”

Hawke smiled in a friendly way, trying to put the frazzled Merrill more at ease. “You’ll have to work harder than that to offend me. My name’s Hawke.” He turned around to us and pointed at each of us in order. “This is my brother Carver, and my friends Varric and Brigitte.”  _ Ooo, he’s already referring to me as a friend. How exciting. _

Merrill greeted each in the group individually and they returned in kind. “Thank you. I’m afraid I’m not very experienced with your kind. The keeper said you came from Fereldan. I spent most of my life there. We only came north a few years ago. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?”

“I miss the cold. And the dirt. Kirkwall’s not brown enough for me. But hey! No darkspawn.”

“Fereldan wasn’t that brown! The dirt and mud gave it character. Anyways, we should go. Your task is for Asha’bellanar. It’s not wise to make her wait.”  _ You have no idea _ .

The hike remained mostly quiet up the bottom part of the mountain, Brigitte figured that Merrill was still a bit too awkward to strike up a conversation, and Hawke was mostly focused on bugging his brother. 

Merrill took out her staff and stopped walking. Hawke nearly ran her over. “What are you doing?”

She turned to him “You should prepare for a fight, there are undead ahead.”

Brigitte readied her greatsword. “Thanks for the warning.” Merrill looked back at her and flashed a small smile before flinging chain lighting which seemingly woke up a group of skeletons. 

Brigitte moved in quickly once the skeletons were out, if she could keep them aggro’d on her and Carver, Hawke, Merrill, and Varric should be able to pick them off easily. Carver and Brigitte worked in tandem, their back to each other, causing the skeletons to almost circle around them. Through the swinging of her sword, Brigitte vaguely registered the fact that Merrill’s chain lightning wasn’t harming Carver or her, so maybe magic didn’t have friendly-fire. That would be convenient.

The last skeleton went down with one of Varric’s bolts stuck through its skull. Hawke kicked some of the skeleton’s, their bones rattling. “Good work, you’re a pretty powerful mage.”

Merrill flushed slightly at the compliment. “All keepers know a bit of old magic. The stories tell us that all Elvhen once had the gift, but like so many things, it was lost.” She looked Hawke in the eye. “It’s a Keeper’s job to remember, to restore what we can.”

“Please keep turning skeletons into toads for us”

Merrill’s face turned into one of confusion. “But I never?” She deadpanned. “Right not literally. Happy to help. I’ve done a little fighting before, but it was always alone. I’ll try not to hurt anyone. On our side I mean. I’m babbling again. Let’s go.”

Merrill opened up a bit more on the way up the mountain, smiling at quips that Varric made and she even chuckled when Hawke almost tripped Carver. Brigitte smirked at the antics but kept her distance. The group probably thought her to be the strong and silent type when really she was just so in awe of everybody that she was sure she would make a fool of herself.

The fire from a camp was visible in a clearing up ahead and Brigitte winced. No matter how many times she had played this scene it still sucked to see Merrill be a pariah in her own clan.

A mean-looking hunter up ahead looked at Merrill and narrowed his eyes “So the Keeper finally found someone to take you from here.”

Merrill looked down at her feet and spoke softly. “Yes.”

The hunter looked up at Hawke. “Then finish your task quickly, human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon.”

Varric whistled. “I’m sensing a story here.” The hunter glared at him.

Merrill swallowed. “I have made my choice. And I will save our clan, whatever you think.”

Hawke shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable with the new tension. “Sundermount seems very… mountainous today, doesn’t it? Lots of rock and hillside.

When Brigitte looked at Merrill’s face she looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Let’s go. We should hurry”

They walked further away from the camp and Merrill sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re not really seeing the Dalish at their best. We’re good people that look out for each other. Just not today apparently.”

“But the Dalish are delightful! I was just thinking of inviting the whole clan over for tea.”

“I’m sure they’d never accept an-Oh, right, sarcasm. Even if my people don’t appreciate my efforts, I must see this through.” She looked up towards the top of the mountain. “Let’s go. Asha’bellanar isn’t known for her patience.”

Merrill led Brigitte and the rest into a cavern full of spiders, which were taken care of in much the same fashion as the skeletons were. Once they were dealt with, Merrill led them through an arch which brought them out in front of a barrier glowing with blue light.

Merrill put out her hand in front of the group and drew a small dagger from somewhere in her armor. “I can open the way forward. One moment.”

Hawke let out a shout as she brought the dagger down upon her hand and Carver turned to Brigitte. “Right, that was not normal.”

Brigitte looked back at him. “We love some good old blood magic, don’t we.”

Merrill turned back to face the group. “Yes. It was blood magic, but I know what I’m doing. The spirit helped us, didn’t it?”

Hawke scoffed. “Sure, demons are very helpful, right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster.”

“Well, yes, but that won’t happen. I know how to defend myself. Be careful up ahead. Restless things prowl the heights.”

As they moved further into the Elvhen graveyard Merrill began to tell of its significance. “In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep. Uthenera. The endless dream they called it.” She lightly ran her hand over one of the gravestones. “They don’t sleep peacefully anymore.” She approached the altar at the edge of the nearby cliff. “Place the amulet on the altar and we can begin.” Hawke stepped forward and lowered the necklace to the cold stone surface. When the amulet touched the altar the noise of more undead climbing out of the ground sounded behind the group. Brigitte sighed. It really never ended.

She cleaved into a nearby skeleton, causing it to crumble under the force of her sword. As she turned to attack another one a crossbow bolt whizzed by her head and she heard a shout of “Sorry Blue!” from Varric. Well, it would have been too much to ask for no friendly-fire to be possible.

Once all of the undead were once again dead, Merrill approached the altar again and began to chant over it. “Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas souver’inan isala hamin vhenan him dor’felas. In uthenera na revas.” At her last words, a golden glow began to form over the altar, forcing everybody to shield their eyes from the onslaught. When the light had dimmed the imposing figure of Flemeth stood before them, looking even more majestic than she did in the game. 

Her raspy voice broke the silence. “Aah and here we are!”

Merrill bowed. “Andaran atish’an, Asha’bellanar”

Flemeth looked down at the kneeling Merrill. “One of the people, I see, so young and bright. Do you know who I am, beyond that title?”

“I know only a little.”

“Then stand. The people bend their knee too quickly.” Flemeth looked at Hawke and the almost predatory look in her eye sent shivers up Brigitte’s spine. “So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half-expected my amulet to end up in a merchant’s pocket.”

Hawke shrugged. “No one wanted to buy it. Maybe because it had a witch inside?”

“Just a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has.”

“You have plans, I take it?”

“Destiny awaits us both, dear boy. We have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice? We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.”

Hawke scoffed. “Cheap advice from a dragon.”

Flemeth threw her head back and laughed. “We all have our challenges.”

Carver spoke. “Are we going to regret bringing her here?”

“Regret is something I know well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets, remember me.” She looked to Merrill. “As for you, child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut.” Her eyes cast over the rest of the gang and stopped on Brigitte. “You. You are special too, although in what way I can not say. Something about you just speaks to the old magic in me.” She stepped back towards the altar and the light began to glow again. “Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks and my sympathy.”

The bright light expanded and intensified again so that Brigitte had to shield her eyes. Her stomach dropped. Flemeth had noticed her, which was the last thing she wanted. Could Flemeth notice she was from another world? Or that she had knowledge of the future. Anxiety overwhelmed her and she dropped to her knees, vomiting up the apples she had eaten on the way up the mountain.

Hawke and Merrill were at her side in an instant and Brigitte was aware of everybody’s eyes on her, causing her to flush a bright pink. Hawke brought a waterskin to her lips. “I didn’t think you would get so excited at seeing a dragon.” 

Brigitte laughed weakly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Merrill’s eyes were wide. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Brigitte nodded. “Of course. Let’s just get back down the mountain.”

The trip down took less time than the trip up and soon Brigitte was standing back in front of the fire in the Dalish camp with Marethari thanking Hawke.

“Ma serannas, child. Your debt is paid in full.” She took Merrill’s hand. “It isn’t too late to change your mind, da’len.”

Merrill loosened her grip. “Dareth shiral, Keeper.” She turned to Hawke. “I’m ready. Let’s depart.”

The walk back to Kirkwall was filled with Hawke explaining Kirkwall’s alienage to Merrill so that she wouldn’t be shocked when she arrived. Brigitte winced. The culture shock was bad enough for her and she had known what living in Kirkwall would be like, at least on a superficial level. 

The group arrived in the alienage, the elves looking a bit wary at the group of heavily armored humans that was now standing in their home. The game didn’t do justice to how much actually went into finding Merrill a home. The whole ordeal took about three hours and was honestly more tiring than walking up Sundermount. Varric and his silver tongue found a nice apartment and quickly talked the rent down to what was probably a reasonable amount. Brigitte still didn’t have a handle on things like that.

Merrill’s eyes lit up when she walked into her new home but there was a hint of melancholy in her eyes that made Brigitte’s heart clench. Merrill hugged each of them, causing Carver’s ears to turn a bright red. “Thank you so much. Please tell me you’ll come and visit?”

Brigitte smiled at her “Of course we will don’t even worry about it.”

Merrill smiled in return. “It will be nice to have friends.”

Varric snorted. “Just don’t get into too much trouble.”

The group made their goodbyes and exited Merrill’s apartment, stepping into the cool air of the night. “I’m going to head back, make sure that Anders hasn’t burned down the clinic while I’m gone.”

Hawke laughed “Of course. Hopefully, our next adventure has fewer corpses.”

Brigitte smiled and started making her way back to Darktown.  _ How did I ever get tangled up in this? _


	6. Recruiting Fenris Pt1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I really just wanted to post something small to get the creative writing juices flowing again. This work has not been abandoned and I have the next few chapters written, so expect weekly updates at about 7pm EST on Sunday nights. Thanks everybody for sticking with me through this and I'm very sorry I haven't been updating more often.

The sound of footsteps and chatter was a constant in the clinic. After all, there were lots of people who needed to be tended to and Anders never stopped moving. Brigitte was bent over at her station, pouring powdered elfroot into a bubbling thick potion. She scrunched her nose up at the clinical smell it gave off. This was a salve, meant to be spread over wounds after Anders had healed most of it to speed up recovery and prevent infection.

Brigitte glanced over her shoulder at the blond man and saw that he was busy healing the lungs of a poor boy who had come in with something like bronchitis. The sickness had been spreading through the reaches of Darktown but thankfully Brigitte had created a large stockpile meant to deal with this kind of illness. Her heart had swelled with pride when Anders had praised her for her work.

Anders finished healing the child and made his way over to her station, his footsteps languid after his long day at work. “More salve? We have tons of it already.”

Brigitte stopped stirring the potion and sat back in her chair, sighing. “I know but it’s not like I have anything else to do. Besides, I’d rather be prepared than be forced to make the potion in a time crunch.”

“I know, but we have over three months' supply. Maybe it would do you good to get a hobby.”

Brigitte ran a hand through her hair and scoffed. What would she possibly do for a hobby? If she wasn’t making potions or helping in the clinic she was collecting herbs and roots and if she wasn't doing that she was practicing her sword skills with Aveline.

“I’m serious, I thought I was obsessive with my work until I met you.”

Brigitte hummed. “And what do you suppose I do for a hobby?”

Anders shrugged. “Maybe take up the lute? I’m not sure, what did you do for fun at home?”

A small piece inside of Brigitte broke inside at his comment even though she knew he didn’t mean it in any bad way, especially because he just knew she was from the Anderfels. “I was a dancer and I collected different minerals. We don’t have the money for that right now.”

Anders’ eyes widened at her words. “You were a dancer? Then why are you not a rogue.”

“I haven’t danced in years, Anders. And I’m not sure, maybe the aggression of swinging a big sword helps me out.”

He hummed. “I can understand that. But think about it, you’re going to work yourself to death if you keep this up.”

Brigitte opened up her mouth to retort but the sound of the clinic door swinging open and a loud cry of “Hello!” from the one and only Hawke brought the conversation to an end.

Anders turned and greeted the fellow mage with a smile, greeting both him and Varric who stood at Hawke’s side. Brigitte rose from her chair and Hawke sent her a charming smile that had Brigitte rolling her eyes.

Hawke spoke first. “Would you all be willing to accompany me on a lovely evening stroll to meet a contact in Lowtown?”

Brigitte perked up at Hawke’s words. Contact? This is definitely the mission where they acquired Fenris as a companion. There was no way Brigitte would be missing that.

Anders looked at Brigitte. “Would you be willing to watch the clinic while I go?”

Brigitte quickly spat out “No.” The atmosphere shifted a bit and she realized that she had spoken much more harshly than she had anticipated. She cleared her throat and spoke again. “What I meant is I think it’s really important that I go on this mission.”

Varric looked at her weirdly. “And why is that exactly?”

She tried to act nonchalant. “Sounds like you need a person who swings a big sword is all.”

Hawke nodded. “ That is always a plus, and Anders, surely you can leave the clinic alone for one night?”

Anders thought for a few moments. “I suppose one night wouldn’t hurt, but we shouldn’t make a routine out of it.”

Hawke clapped his hands together. “Great! Well, let’s get a move on, we can’t keep our contact waiting.”

Anders looked at Hawke in shock. “Are you telling me that you assumed we would go with you? What if I had a patient?”

Hawke shrugged. “Then I would have taken Ms. Swingy Swingy and gone and got Merrill, you know how this works.”

Anders scoffed and grabbed his staff as Hawke turned on his heels and walked out of the decrepit clinic, leaving Anders and Brigitte to catch up.

Brigitte was practically humming with excitement as the group walked through Darktown and Lowtown. Fenris had always been one of her favorite characters and she sympathized a lot with him, even if he was prickly. Brigitte winced as she knew how the first meeting between Anders and Fenris was going to go, and Brigitte knew she did not want to be in the middle of it.

The group came to a halt in front of a dark-haired Dwarf who was muttering to himself. Anso. Hawke snapped his fingers and got the dwarf’s attention. “Hello there. I heard you needed us for a job?”

Anso straightened up and cleared his throat. “Oh yes. My name is Anso and I have a job for you.”

Hawke nodded. “Yes, I am aware of that. What is this job?”

“Oh yes. Sorry, I’m so worried I’m going to fall into the sky, it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

Varric whistled. “My brother Bertrand was the same way when he first came to the surface. Jumpy like a nug.”

Hawke smiled at his companion and turned back to the nervous Dwarf in front of him. “Once again I am asking you what the job is.”

“Well, I need someone to go into the alienage and clear out an abandoned house of thugs. There should be precious cargo in one of the boxes in the house.”

Hawke furled his brows. “That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Well,” He looked back at the group, “Sounds like an easy night, we should get going.”

Anders looked over at Brigitte. “I can’t believe we got dragged out of the clinic for this.”

She smiled as the group began walking towards the alienage. “I have a feeling this will be more interesting than Anso’s letting on.”

“You sure about that?”

“Definitely.”  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brigitte swung her sword one last time, burying it with a wince into the side of one of the slavers. The smell of blood was acrid as it sprayed and coated the ground. It didn’t help that the game hadn’t exaggerated the number of slavers who were waiting outside of the abandoned house.

As expected for Brigitte the box inside was empty. On the bright side, at least this meant that the story was proceeding as it should. Nothing too big had changed yet, thankfully.

She turned her head and watched as Hawke took on the last slaver, casting an entropy spell that left the slaver dumbfounded and Varric knocked an arrow through his chest.

She took a towel out of one of the pockets on Thedas version of a utility belt and wiped her face off. She handed the towel to Anders who scrunched up his nose but he took the towel, grunting in thanks as he handed it back to her.

Hawke looked more than a bit annoyed, his eyebrows slightly furled. “So what now? Do we just leave and go back to Anso?”

Varric spoke up. “It was weird that there was nothing in the box.”

“Perhaps there was a mistake?”

“I don’t think Anso makes many mistakes, Hawke. There’s more to this than we think.”

Brigitte kept quiet, trying not to influence anything. Even after all this time in Thedas, it was still hard to think of the characters as just people. And she always had the nagging thought in the back of her mind that something she said would arouse suspicion or change the course of the plot that she had come to know and love. And if that was gone all of her power was gone. She would just be a mediocre fighter in a cruel world.

Anders gave her a small nudge and she realized that the group was beginning the trek back to Anso’s part of Lowtown. Here it comes. Holding her breath, she wasn’t even paying attention to what Hawke and Varric were talking about as they walked up the stairs, only to be stopped by some slaver grunt that Hawke made a snide comment to. And then it happened. Fenris walked out of the shadows behind the man, his lyrium tattoos glowing in the dark of night. Before Hawke could even open his mouth to speak, the tattoos flashed a bright cyan blue and Fenris forced his hand through the slaver's chest, drawing his heart out with his hand.

Everybody looked to be in shock, including Brigitte. The very act was so violent that it took her breath away and made her a bit sick to her stomach. She swallowed thickly and tried to keep herself in check. Now would not be a good time to lose control.

Fenris walked down a few more steps and looked almost abashed as he met Hawke’s gaze. “I suppose you are the people Anso hired for the contract. My apologies for any inconvenience.”

Hawke quickly put his charming mask back on although Brigitte could see in his eyes that he was still shaken. “Oh no, we do this kind of thing every day, don’t you worry.”

Fenris quirked a small smile. “Impressive. My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister’s lost property, namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely.”

“Anso’s job did seem a little too easy.”

“Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding. If I may ask: What was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?”

“It was empty.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know.”

Hawke cocked his head to the side. “All that for an empty chest?”

“No. There’s more.” Fenris crouched down next to the slaver with a gaping hole in his chest and rummaged through his pockets. “It’s as I thought. My former master has accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help.”

Hawke seemed to mull it over in his head before nodding. “Alright, we’ll help you.”

“Good. The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning.”

“We can accompany you if you like.”

Fenris looked at the bodies strewn around the alienage courtyard. “I have some work to do before we meet up.”

After Fenris moved away from the group Hawke looked at the group and clasped his hands, smiling wildly. “What do you say we go kill some more slavers?”

Anders and Brigitte locked eyes. Of all the things Hawke could have dragged them out for, this had to be it.


	7. Eight of Swords - Reversed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated a bit early because I was just so excited to continue the story! Please drop in the comments if there is any specific quest you want to see Brigitte and crew complete!

The large imposing manner stood in front of Brigitte and she let her eyes wander over the details, taking it in. The light colored marble fit in well with the rest of the mansions in Hightown, making the building seemingly unassuming. The silence of the area was interspersed with the distant sounds of guards making their patrols and birds flapping their wings. 

Fenris broke the silence. “No one has left the mansion, but I’ve heard nothing within.” His gaze traveled up the windows on the upper level. “Danarius may know we’re here. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Hawke smiled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Fenris’ face remained solemn. “I do not fear death. That does not mean we should be reckless.”

Brigitte resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his words. Of course Fenris would say that when she knew Fenris would begin to yell the minute they made their way into the mansion.

Hawke stepped to the side and Fenris opened the door, a steeled expression on his face. Brigitte hefted her greatsword up over her shoulder, its weight comforting as she knew it would protect her. She wasn’t going to lie, she was nervous. Yeah, she had fought the demons on Sundermount but demons summoned by a blood mage hellbent on retrieving his property? She didn’t know what to expect.

The fight started quickly in the first room. The demons didn’t just appear, they oozed out of the floor and Brigitte had to swallow down vomit when the stench of death hit her nose. The shades were like dementors, get too close and your happiness was sucked out. The rage demon felt like fire when it came near her. Flight or fight kicked in.

She went into her battle mode, locked on the target. Anders seemingly danced around behind her, flinging glyphs to support the fights while Hawke used elemental magic to shoot ice spikes through the rage demons and electricity to fry the shades. If it wasn’t for how preoccupied she was, Brigitte could probably appreciate how the team worked as a single unit. Even Fenris with his greatsword fit into the dynamic, slashing through Hawke’s paralyzed demons.

The first fight only lasted maybe a total of three minutes but Brigitte felt drained. A sudden wave of nausea overtook her and she deposited any food she had eaten in the last twelve hours onto the floor, its acrid smell filling the room. Anders put his hand on her back and looked her in the face, concerned. “Are you ok?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up straight, ignoring the looks she was getting from the other group members. “Yeah, just never fought demons like that before.”

Anders smiled at her while Fenris began moving towards the door. “There will be more before this is over, so be prepared.”

She looked back at Anders and his hand dropped from her shoulders. She quickly found herself missing the contact. Not the time.

The group continued like this through the mansion, although Brigitte did not throw up again, managing to keep her nerves more cool. The mansion was luxuriously decorated, fine trinkets and tapestries were lined on shelves and walls. Covering this glamour however was the general grime of disuse. Dust covered almost every surface and rats scurried around every corner.  
It almost became routine with how many rooms they had to go through as they passed through the mansion. Walk in, target the rage demon, fight the shades, fall behind Fenris.

The last fight was the most difficult, and everybody could feel the strain on their bodies. Muscles ached and bones were weary. It must have been close to three am now, and the adrenaline coursing through Brigitte’s veins wasn’t even enough anymore to dull the aches she felt from overexertion. Hawke found the key in the remains of one of the shades and they made their way up the stairs to the previously locked door. 

As the last of the fight left her body, Brigitte could hardly keep her eyes open. Fenris opened the door and looked around while the rest of the group hung behind. He came back out, his face unreadable. “Gone. I had hoped… No, it doesn’t matter any longer.” He looked behind his shoulder at the room. “I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish, I need some air.”

Hawke smiled at the mention of valuables and walked quickly in the room. Probably hoping to fund his Deep Roads expedition. Brigitte turned to look at Anders and wasn’t surprised to find that he looked as tired as she felt, not to mention that his mana was probably drained beyond belief. He met her eyes. “Perhaps we should wait outside also.”

She shook her head. “We should leave with Hawke, I doubt Fenris wants to see anymore of us right now.”

He nodded, seemingly too tired to argue and Hawke walked out of the room, his pockets filled to the brim with what looked like valuable jewels and trinkets. He smiled cheerily. “Let’s go see what Fenris is up too, shall we?”

When they walked outside, Fenris was leaning against the wall. He broke the silence. “It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul. And now I find myself in the company of even more mages.” Brigitte felt Anders bristle at these comments but Hawke looked relaxed, even aloof.

Fenris pushed off the wall and stalked over to Hawke. “I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were.” His gaze turned to Anders. “You harbor a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature.” 

Anders opened her mouth but Brigitte shot him a sharp glance and he paused, allowing Fenris to continue. “I’m not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others.” He sighed. “I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised. Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it.”

Hawke gripped his staff a bit tighter. “Are you going to have a problem with my companions?”

“I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I can promise no more than that.”

“I’m planning an expedition I could use help with”

“Fair enough, should you ever have use of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal.”

Hawke dipped his head in acknowledgement and turned to face Brigitte and Anders, Fenris making his way back into the mansion.

“More friends, eh?”

Anders leveled his gaze at Hawke. “I can not believe you would allow someone who hates mages into the group? You do realize that he loathes our very existence right?”

“Of course, but I believe that he will be reasonable in due time.”

“Nobody who hates mages is reasonable, Hawke.”

“Please, Anders, just give it time.”

“We can discuss this further, but I need to get back to the clinic, Brigitte?”

Brigitte perked up, almost having fallen asleep during the conversation between Hawke and Fenris. “Yeah, we definitely should go back now.”

Anders nodded in agreement and bid Hawke a goodnight, and the duo started to make their way back to Darktown

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brigitte sat watching the cup of tea in her hand as Anders paced and moved his arms frantically. “A Tevinter slave who hates mages! Does Hawke not find that dangerous! He could kill us or hand us over to the Templars.”

Brigitte sipped her tea, trying not to jump to Fenris’ defense. The last thing she wanted was Justice making an unwelcome appearance.

Anders dropped his hands and turned to her. “Are you even listening to what I am saying? This man is dangerous!”

Brigitte set down her cup. “I am listening, Anders, but what would he gain from turning you or Hawke in? He owes a debt to Hawke and I think he’s currently more concerned with Danarius.”

“I want you to be on your guard. Keep a watch out for Templars in Darktown.”

Brigitte nodded. “I will.” She stood up and softened her expression. “Don’t worry Anders, I’ll do everything in my power to keep us safe.”

Anders nodded, the lines on his face deepening, showing his exhaustion. He slumped into the chair behind him. “When will people learn that mages can control themselves?”

“It will take something big for that to happen, but I’m sure it will.”

“How could you possibly know that? We fight and fight and for what? To be placed into circles and be no better than slaves. I can’t stand for this, Brigitte.”

“I know and I’ll support you in your endeavors.”

He looked up at her. “You couldn’t possibly know how much that means to me.”

She smiled at him. “I really do try.” She put her cup of tea in the dirty dishes bucket sitting against the clinic wall. “Also, I have something we need to discuss in the morning.”

“Oh?”

She threw her head back and laughed. “As I said, in the morning.”


End file.
